


Halloween Night

by TheonSugden



Category: EastEnders
Genre: Anal Fingering, Exhibitionism, Frottage, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Public Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:37:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5551064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheonSugden/pseuds/TheonSugden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt asking for Paul/Ben smut. This is set on Halloween Night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halloween Night

Cold night.

Probably not as cold if he’d been wearing anything on his chest beyond football pads, but if there was ever a night in miserable Walford to get away with a bare chest, it had to be Halloween. Either that or a stag do…and those mostly involved laddy lads smashing lager cans on their heads. Of course when they looked like Martin and Kush, he wasn’t complaining…

“Nice night?”

Paul wasn’t sure if the bloke walking near him was asking or telling. Handsome man. Friendly, which in Walford made you seem weird. Paul had never had the best experiences with weird men himself - with one big exception…

“Yeah,” he said, shaking his head when offered a cigarette. 

“You mind?” the man, who in a better light Paul now realized looked a bit like John Barrowman, but wasn’t actually John Barrowman, unless Captain Jack was slumming.

“Go ahead,” Paul answered, not wanting to walk away too fast in case the fella had a knife.

“Here with the wife - she’s on karaoke now.”

Paul nodded. 

“So you’re not -”

The man looked surprised…and tense. 

“This a sting or summat?”

“No! No. Maybe I’d just better -”

Before he could make his rush exit, one Ben Mitchell flew around the corner, fists in the air like a cartoon character. 

“Back off! You back of -”

He didn’t have time to say anything else before Not-John-Barrowman’s fist crashed into his nose.

“You’re lucky I don’t report this,” the man said, frowning at them both before storming back in the pub, his lit cigarette soon under Paul’s trainer.

“Safety first,” Paul joked, nervously, before kneeling down to help Ben.

“Leave me alone! This is all YOUR FAULT!”

Paul didn’t want to tell him how cute he looked when he was bleeding and petulant.

“Just stop and let me - ” he said as he grabbed a napkin from Ben’s pocket, probably from when Abi was mauling him with her cheap lippy - “Nothing’s broken. Except your heterosexual pride.”

“So so funny,” Ben whined, letting Paul clean up the blood. 

“It’s not so bad,” Paul said, in his most comforting voice he used for his gran. “You can tell Abi what a stud you are.”

He stopped thinking of his gran when Ben’s trembling hand came to rest on his bare stomach. 

“You wear this for me?”

Paul wanted to pout and flounce, say he wore it for himself and don’t you forget it, but he wasn’t that good a liar.

“Yeah,” he admitted, softly, loud music from the Vic drowning him out..

Ben’s pained sneer faded into the rare need and innocence that kept Paul longing for him.

“You’re…you’re gorgeous. You’re so sexy.”

Paul was about to thank him when he flinched at the hand nervously untying the strings of his tight football trousers.

“Ben…” he said, needy when he wanted to be firm, wanted to say what a stupid idea this was. 

He was firm, but not in the way he wanted to be. 

Well clearly it was the way he wanted to be, he guiltily realized, based on how quickly his shaft thickened in Ben’s hot hand.

“Looks like ya miss me too,” Ben teased, leaning forward for an awkward attempt at a kiss with a stuffed-up nose.

“Ben,” he said, stammering as Ben licked at his lips, “Anyone could walk up…”

“I know,” Ben said, eyes alight with the reflection of the Vic, grin wide and playful.

Paul took Ben’s head in his hands, tilting his face to avoid Ben’s injuries.

“Paul…”

Paul peppered him with small, short kisses, knowing Ben got loud when they got to this stage. When he lowered Ben’s fly, fishing out his erect cock.

It still fit just right in his palm.

He let Ben grab the back of his head, pushing him against the wall, deepening their kiss to drown out their moans. Ben cupped Paul’s smooth arse cheeks, scraping his knuckles to spare Paul’s muscular backside the brunt of the brick wall. 

With their hands busy, Ben, in a frenzy, rubbed his shorter, thicker shaft against Paul’s longer, thinner penis, pre-come gluing them together and leading to friction when Ben pulled free. His fat crown jabbed at the base of Paul’s hardness, jerking out another sharp grunt from his lover.  

“Ooh, frottage,” Paul teased, losing his breath when Ben stuck a finger in his mouth, then Paul’s, losing his head entirely to a guttural moan as Ben began working the digit into Paul.

“You really want this, don’t you?” he said, forgetting to whisper, letting Ben lick and bite up and down his neck, Ben’s free hand tweaking his nipples and tracing wild patterns over his chiseled abs.

“I want you,” Ben said, glasses flying to the pavement as he pulled Paul closer, if that was even possible, rigid shaft sliding into Paul’s thigh in tandem with the two fingers opening the hole he knew so well.

This had gone way too far - it was begging for someone to see them, report them - but it was one of the hottest times Paul had ever had, made even better, the volleys shooting into Ben’s gut and upper thighs lasting even longer, because it was with Ben. His Ben…

“Where are my glasses?” Ben suddenly said, waking him up from the high.

“There. There,” he pointed, feeling the usual depression as the shock wore off, quickly relacing his football pants to hurry home for a shower.

“Paul,” Ben said, clutching at his arm before he left.

Paul readied himself for the usual - _I’m not gay. You made me do this. I have a girlfriend._

Instead, Ben planted one last rushed kiss on his lips, gave a quick, dirty wink, and a few last words that left Paul walking home wearing a Cheshire Cat grin.

“Can’t wait to see what ya come as next year.”


End file.
